


You'll Have to go Through Me

by Pyreof_Books



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AU-Neil kicks ass, Andreil Week 2018, Angst, Baltimore with a twist, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 13:24:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15220088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyreof_Books/pseuds/Pyreof_Books
Summary: When Neil is taken from under the Foxes noses, Lola taunts him. She shouldn't have threatened his family.Andreil Week 2018 Day Eight





	You'll Have to go Through Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hi yes this is Very Bad and unedited and pretty much just something kicking around in my head sooooooooo...  
> If you see any mistakes, feel free to let me know. I'll take criticism. I want this to be good because I like the idea of it, but I might have just put a bunch of words on paper here.

Neil inspected his arms under the hot spray of the shower. Puckered lines and red circles covered him from the tips of his fingers to his elbows. When he made a fist, they paled and stood out more against his tan skin. The individual hurts each cut or sear caused was forgotten, the insurmountable pain an echo now. However, in the night, his dreams brought back every moment with sharp clarity, right down to the demanding voice of Lola asking for the location of his mother, facts about the Foxes, if he had any knives on his person. Through gritted teeth he would scream “Dead! ...Gone! ..They don’t _know_ anything! PLEASE, I have NOTHING,” but in his dreams the pain was never ending and the foul taste of ‘please’ still on his tongue when he woke up, gasping for breath, nails nearly drawing blood where they clutched his arms.

The wall of the shower was cold on his back. He didn’t remember leaning against it, or sliding down to sit on the floor of the tub. How long has he been in here?

Lola had taunted him the entire ride to Baltimore, the sedation of the chloroform wearing off too soon. There, in the dark, she had pressed against him and brought her lips close to his ear.

“When we’re through with you, we’ll let the flies lay eggs in your cuts. The maggots will eat your body and _if_ you were ever found, your Uncle wouldn’t be able to identify you,” Neil felt his heart squeeze in his chest, but remained silent. Bile rose in his throat. “Oh, Junior. I wonder if dear Stuart even remembers what you look like? No, I’ll bet not. Mary never ran to him, but she should have. Too much pride in her, the damn bitch. Thought she was too good for the dirty business he dealt in. Little did she know how he cleaned up the family after their father died. No use telling her now,” Neil couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or not. The darkness was all the same. He stayed quite. “Hmmm. I suppose your ratty team may know what you look like. What would they think of your body, stretched out on a mortuary slab, nothing but a flash of red hair and maybe an eye to ID you?”

Neil jerked. He could feel Lola’s smile against his ear.

“Oh, the Foxes, huh? Do they know you’re the son of a killer? Do they know how many of our men you’ve _disposed_ of? Your whore mother let you kill some, huh? Was she too weak? I could always tell them, after you’re gone. Yes, I could stop by your dorm, maybe the court, and leave your head and a note. I could bring them to their knees just as we’ll bring you to yours.”

Nathaniel stopped breathing. He tried to push to the back of the trunk, the handcuffs biting in harder. His face rubbed against the liner and pain exploded behind his eyes but he didn’t feel it. He needed _out._

Lola laughed.

“What were their names again, _Junior?_ ”

There was a knock on the door to the bathroom. Who was there? Where was he? Columbia, if the shower was any indication… he was at Edens… The boys should still be asleep, but if Neil got up than Andrew would have to. Wait, Andrew was the one who told him to shower… Because he had woken up shaking and sweaty. He had had a nightmare. Yes, that’s all this was. A nightmare. Baltimore was a nightmare fueled by his father’s anger and Lola’s twisted mind. Where she listed off the Foxes one by one, starting with the girls.

She promised to break their bones, first. Then go in with her knives and pluck them out. Then she would go after Matt, the one with the spikey hair. Kevin she would leave for last, to see if the Moriyamas still wanted him. And if they didn’t… Seth had already been taken care of, so she didn’t linger on him except to gloat. The car had stopped moving around that time. They would be getting out soon. Lola started edging away from him, her hands coming up between them. One held a knife. Nathaniel started moving as soon as they weren’t pressed together so tightly.

            “Neil, I’m coming in,” Andrew’s voice came from behind the door. The water was running cold now, but his arms were still hot. His face still burned. The water dripping down the side of his face felt like blood.

            The trunk of the lid cracked open and Lola started to maneuver out.

            “The twins would come next then. One’s a little maniac, right? Riko already got a bite out of him. I think I’d take my time, make them watch each other suffer-”

            Nathaniel looped his handcuffed hands around her neck and pulled her close to his body. She flailed, the knife in her hands trapped against her stomach and his. He pulled tighter on the chain, her gasping harsh against her face. Through the crack in the trunk, light came in and illuminated her wide eyes. He probably looked more like his father in that moment than he had in his entire life. She kicked the trunk lid, popping it up further. Jackson had moved to go in already, leaving her to deal with him. He probably thought he was still unconscious.

            She died with Nathaniel staring her in the eyes, suffocating and afraid. He waited an extra minute just to be sure. There was a good chance he had broken her windpipe. He took another minute to think about his options. The promises Lola had made hadn’t escaped this trunk, but he was easy to read. The foxes were his weakness. He pulled himself out of the truck, throwing a leg around her still warm body and resting his weight briefly on his chained hands. He crouched behind the car, scanning for threats, and then turned to rummage through the pockets of her jeans. He found the keys and unlocked his handcuffs. Then he took her knife.

            He made his way to the garage. The house had been just as he remembered it, maybe the paint a little more worn, but the passage into the basement was still marked with a faint smudge of blood on the concrete. You’d have to know it was there to see it. Jackson was on the phone at the entrance, probably informing his father of their arrival. He wanted to end him right then, but he waited for him to pull the phone away and shut it with a click. He grumbled a little and looked out to the car where Lola’s body lay.

            Nathaniel burrowed the knife in his chest from his place ten feet way, throwing with the same skill he had during his lessons. Mary had made him keep up with it on the run. Self defense, she’d called it. Now it was him others needed protection from. Jackson dropped to the ground, eyes open in shock as Nathaniel approached. He gurgled something, probably insulting, but he choked on blood. He took the knife out of his chest and slit his throat for good measure. Then, he grabbed the gun tucked in the small of his back and went into the house. His father wouldn’t be waiting in the basement.

            He was, however, sipping whiskey in the living room. He sat on a chair by a small table, eyes lazily looking through a book in front of him. Nathaniel gave him no time to speak, to look, to think, to breathe, to _hurt._ He shot his hands, first. The one holding the edge of the page, then the one with the glass. Nathan cried out, surprise, not pain, blue eyes zeroing in on Nathaniel. He shot his knees, next. That was four shots. Six more. Four to be safe, as Jackson may have fired some off. He shot his shoulder. Then his stomach. Nathan was gasping now, shouting something he couldn’t make out then nor remember now. Sometimes, he dreamt he said “Hello, Junior”. He fell out of the chair, crawling towards Nathaniel, one bloody hand trying to reach behind him for a knife or a gun or _salvation_. The book was open on the floor and Nathaniel could see it for what it was. A photo album. A crimson soaked picture of Mary holding a five year old Nathaniel. It was after Nathan had graced him with his knife after he had failed to flip and catch a blade like Lola showed him. He shot Nathan in the head. He jerked back, neck bending from the force before he slammed into the ground. Nathaniel stared at him, at the puddle of red like a halo around Nathan.

            He had just started to turn when a click sounded behind him. Nathaniel threw himself to the right, ducking and turning his head to see DiMaccio standing in the doorway, his face a mask of anger. He fired off a shot. Too wide, it hit the doorframe. DiMaccio returned fire, narrowly missing as Nathaniel ducked behind the couch. He popped up the opposite way he had been heading, managing to clip DiMaccio’s shoulder. He grunted. Best odds, there was one bullet left in the gun. He fired again. Nothing.

            His hands were screaming, the adrenaline waning as his father’s life faded. He couldn’t feel his face, or maybe it was on fire.

            DiMaccio came closer now, a feral grin on his face. He tried to throw the knife this time, but he was being watched. DiMaccio swatted it away. He came closer.

            Abruptly, he dropped, blood spewing from his chest, splattering Nathaniel’s face. With faint clunk, his face collided with the carpet, and behind him stood Uncle Stuart, still looking down the sight of his revolver. He opened his mouth to speak.

            “NEIL!” Andrew was yelling at him. His hazel eyes were panicked, his voice louder than Neil had ever heard it. “NEIL COME ON!”

            “Andrew?” The water wasn’t falling on him anymore. Andrew had flung a towel on him with no finesse, covering his waist barely.

            Andrew was breathing heavily, hands fisted by the sides of Neil’s head. “You weren’t answering me. You’ve been in here for an hour. I’ve been yelling for three minutes.” Andrew carefully rearranged his face into a blank mask. “You were whispering. Repeating what you said last year.”

            Neil knew exactly what he had said. When he came out of that house with Stuart, he had called the Foxes- Wymack’s number- while one of Stuart’s men took care of his arms. He had told them he was in Baltimore. That he was going to England with Stuart. That he was a killer, and a monster, and a liar. Wymack had him on speaker phone to the entire team. They had been shouting, but all Nathaniel did was tell them why he had to go, and why he wanted to stay. Vague things, like he had been hurt. He couldn’t play for weeks. That it was impossible to bleach the blood off his hands after so many years of survival.

            The only voice that mattered was Andrew’s, who took the phone from Wymack and told him to stay, that Neil was the starting striker for Palmetto and they needed him, and that no one cared if another killer was on the team. Neil had been given keys and there was no return policy.

            Now, Neil said “Oh.” He looked at Andrew, wondering if this is how panicked he had looked when he called last year. If this emotion was how the others knew there was a _this_. “I’m fine now.”

This was the wrong thing to say. For a moment, Andrew looked like he was going to throw one of his fists through  the tile, or maybe Neil’s face. He mastered his anger, brief as it was, and instead clamped his hand on the back of his neck.

“Neil Josten. Co- captain and starting striker for the Palmetto Foxes. Twenty years old. Your father is dead. So are his goons. You cowed the Moriyamas into letting you, Jean, and Kevin go. You are free. You are not _fine_ ,” Andrew ground out the last word like it had slapped him. “Are you going to schedule an extra appointment with Bee, or are you okay with reliving the trunk and the house in Baltimore at night?”

Neil swallowed, leaning forward more, trying to get close to Andrew. “I will. I should. Hey,” Neil brought his hand up very slowly, holding it over the side of Andrew’s face for a moment before he nodded. “Thank you.”

Andrew worked his jaw, a movement so minute most wouldn’t have caught it. “Get up, Junkie. You’re freezing. Put some pants on.” He turned and left the bathroom, pulling away from Neil’s hand at the last second.

When Neil was dressed in sweatpants and Andrew’s black hoodie, the armbands covering the scars he had been staring at, he went downstairs. If anyone had heard Andrew yelling or Neil’s muttered whispers, they didn’t acknowledge it. Nicky just smiled at him from the kitchen where he was making (burning) pancakes. Aaron was nursing his hangover with a glass of water at the counter, but he gave Neil a cursory once over. Kevin was in a similar state one the couch, though the glass in his hand may have been more vodka. Andrew was sitting next to him, staring at news on the TV.

Despite the smell of smoke and blood clogging his nose, and the fear still lingering beneath the scarred layers of his skin, Neil smiled. _This_ was what he had gained, had protected. A normalcy he had never anticipated in his years on the run. Something far, far better than he could have imagined.

He nudged Nicky out of the way and took over the pancakes, dumping a few extra handfuls of chocolate chips into the bowl for Andrew. _Neil Josten, co- captain and starting striker. Making mafia men look the other way to protect his family. Involved in_ this _with goalie Andrew Minyard. Master of pancakes._

When he called Bee later, he would start with that.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this was... aggressive. Baltimore was a mess, but I feel like if there was a chance Lola or any of his father's people would consider going after the Foxes, he would go Nathaniel on them to protect them. What do you think?


End file.
